


Comrades At Arms

by Palefire73



Series: Loki Origins [30]
Category: Frigga - Fandom, Loki - Fandom, Norse Gods - Fandom, Thor - Fandom, Tyr - Fandom, odin - Fandom
Genre: Battle, Birth Celebration, Foreshadowing, Gen, Nordic Influences, War Chanting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 07:23:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12954246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palefire73/pseuds/Palefire73
Summary: Loki is about to turn four and Odin and Frigga both have ideas about how to celebrate now he is getting a bit older. They eventually come to a compromise and believe the day will be a great one. However, this is Palefire's Lokiverse, and there is no such thing as a straightforward day!





	1. Co-operation.

**Author's Note:**

> After the drought caused by my recent bereavement, now comes the flood. This was supposed to be a short story for this series of tales about Loki's formative years, but somehow it grew... and grew. I have to give credit to a few people over on the Facebook AO3 page who gave me a few ideas as to how to get the Midgardians to come to Asgard. And, as ever, I must thank my beloved muse for staying with me - even if he retreated to a corner of the room while I went through the motions of helping to wrap up the 92 years my Nan was here on the earth.

Time does strange things… at times… No matter which universe, which realm or which dimension someone exists in, time is never completely linear as some of we Midgardians would perhaps choose to believe. The ancient desire to have some order in our lives led to our almost obsessive need to measure the passing of this thing we call ‘time’, yet the universes did not come into existence with clocks and other timepieces, did they?

 

So it was that Frigga and Odin had to ask of themselves: _where had the last four years gone?_ Of course, their lives – which were already exceptionally long when compared to those of mortals – had rendered years into small chunks of time which passed more and more quickly the older they got, but they were still surprised at how quickly the fourth anniversary of announcing the arrival of their ‘child’, Loki, to the magnificent realm of Asgard had come around. It had not been a smooth path to this point; indeed, for someone who should never have lived in the first place, Loki had already led a very interesting and even occasionally dangerous life already. Yet, here they were, planning a birth celebration for the child for the fourth time and Odin had had a big idea.

 

“Just think of it, my dear Queen!” The All Father enthused, “I have witnessed it first-hand and it is quite entertaining. When I went to Vanaheimr last year, they put on such an impressive display. Each of the clans had their own version which had been handed down generation after generation and they were immensely proud of it. Even the King’s clan got up to show us theirs and he was at the head of it. I am quite sure this would make Loki’s celebration the talk of Asgard for quite some time.” He sat back in his comfortable armchair and took a draught of his spiced mead as he waited for Frigga’s reaction. She had been quiet while he had been explaining his idea to her, listening attentively as he had described it in great detail, her beautiful eyes never leaving them as they widened in surprise, crinkled with laughter and narrowed over potential logistical problems. Although he had known other beings, Frigga was the one upon whom he relied to keep him a strong – and fair – King. Her measured advice had often swayed him from a potentially disruptive path, yet she knew well enough when to leave him to it. Although – for reasons only Yggdrasil herself knew – he had not yet got a child upon her, she was a wonderful mother to the boys in every way, as if they were her own and she did not hold back if she felt there was any aspect of their upbringing that she did not approve of or that she felt was lacking. Odin knew the signs in her very well and so he was quite disappointed to see the determined yet perfectly reasonable look which appeared on her face at his suggestion. He knew that look only too well.

 

“Odin, my King…” She began and his heart sank. Although they spoke to each other quite informally in private, they still used each other’s titles too – but in this instance Odin knew she was using it to distance herself from him a little… because she was about to disagree with him. She also sat back in her matching armchair, but she turned her gaze to the large fireplace they were sitting near and the light of the flames reflected in her serious eyes as she chose her words. “Have you approached anyone about this yet? There is only a week to go before Loki’s birth celebration.”

Odin stroked the luxurious curls of his golden beard as he frowned, “No… not yet. I was thinking of sending messengers by the Bi-Frost. No one will refuse the All Father!” He sounded very confident indeed, but his face fell as Frigga gave him a sharp look.

“That is not very fair, is it? To rely on your status in order to have your way. You are only going to cause stress in those who will find it difficult to arrange such a trip! Have you really thought this through my King?” Her eyes bored into him and even though he was the Protector of The Nine Realms and had faced many scary situations, he was left quailing under her gaze.

“Well… I er, I ..”

“Odin… I think it is a wonderful idea, but it is going to take a lot of hard work over the next few days to organise. I have already made discreet enquiries about my idea and it will be easier to arrange. Why not save your idea for next year?” Frigga raised her eyebrows questioningly, but her face darkened as Odin snorted loudly.

“We are not having a dance for a four year old Prince of Asgard! He exclaimed, “Why do you insist on teaching him the soft arts, Frigga? I am all for broad learning and I would never turn a woman away from battle training, but all Loki seems to be interested in these days is plants and _ballet_!” Odin stood up from his chair and went to stand at the hearth, where the warm tones of his clothing were enriched by the oranges and reds of the burning logs. “He is a man… no, he is a _Frost Giant_! He may be small in stature, but I’ll wager that he will tower over us when he reaches maturity and he will be a damn sight better built than I!”

“Odin…”

“Frigga! I am rarely intolerant of your ways, yet I must insist that Loki is brought up as a warrior. The chances are slight, but we must prepare for the fact that he may play a role in the ruling of Asgard one day and he must be able to defend her!” Odin took a hefty swig of his mead and stared into the roaring fire as he tried to keep his temper. _Why did Frigga spend so much time tutoring Loki anyway?_ “He is constantly wanting to go to read in the library about botany and herbal medicines… about the only redeeming feature of all of this is the fact that his skill at games of strategy has grown tremendously…”

 

The gentle hand of his Queen on his arm melted his heart, of course, and he turned to meet her kindly eyes. _Why was she not angry with him?_ He had been most unkind about her efforts with the Jotúnn hostage child.

 

“Odin.” By the Norns, even her tone of voice inveigled its way into him and he could feel himself already coming round to her way of thinking. _How did she do it_? “Odin, what if we compromise? I have some things which can be arranged immediately – I have only to say yes to those who are waiting to hear. In the meantime, you could visit some of the mortals you have lived amongst in recent decades and perhaps persuade some of them to come here to do what it is you want Loki to see.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The howling sleet-laden winds pounding up the spray of the North Sea were frigid and the heavy sailcloth whipped back and forth, straining against the thick cord which attached it to the sturdy wooden poles which had been hammered into the ground only a few hours before. It was a make-shift tent, but it would do; the sailors sheltering within had erected it when they realised they were not going to make it to their new settlement before nightfall. The sailcloth had gathered the same wind to bring their longship to the shores of The Danelaw, where they were to meet up with their families, before being removed from the mast after they had landed. Such a high quality cloth was prized and would never be left behind. It would be gifted to the people of the place they were going to – a small settlement where their families had been for quite some time and which was starting to gain a reputation as the place to go to hire the best warriors for miles around.

 

Jakob huddled in his furs and poked a stick at the glowing coals in the fire pit he had been tending since he had come on watch duty a couple of hours before. Their camp was in a good place; the tent had been erected at the base of a small rocky outcrop and the fire pit had been built away from the worst of the wind, so he was not too cold. He still had a decent view of the surrounding area – especially in the bright moonlight tonight. The glow of the pre-dawn was just about starting too and he was looking forward to breaking camp and setting off on the walk up to where his new life would begin. So the figure slowly approaching as it resisted the push of the wind was visible to him for at least an hour before the gnarled old man – as it turned out to be – hailed him.

“Fellow traveller! Might I share in the warmth of your fire? It is a wicked night!” The man struggled to keep his heavy cloak around him, but Jakob could not see his face clearly due to the voluminous hood – which strangely did not seem to be as affected by the gusts. He squinted at the stranger, but could not detect anything sinister about him; his voice and posture clearly indicated he was of an age and Jakob was quite confident in his own skills as a fighter, so he could not see any reason to turn him away.

“Very well, old man. Come, make yourself at home and warm your bones.” He reached into a leather sack and brought out a few strips of dried meat, “Hungry?” He asked, offering them to the man who had sat down beside him and was holding his hands towards the fire. To his surprise, his guest reached into a sack of his own and brought out a brace of freshly trapped hares and he felt his mouth water – the fare on the longship had not been the best food he had ever eaten by a mile. “Let us trade: my hares for your hospitality.”

 

It was not long before the smell of roasting meat and the low voices of the two men had woken the others in his party and soon Jakob and the stranger were joined by Stephán, Lukas, Magnus and Þórbiǫrn for an impromptu and very tasty early breakfast. Jakob put it down to tiredness from the long and somewhat rough voyage followed by little sleep, but he could have sworn the hares fed them far more satisfactorily than they should. He listened as his fellow travellers swapped tales of adventure with the old man, and it was only as his curiosity turned into disbelief that he finally drew back his hood and revealed himself for who it was Jakob had started to suspect was sitting amongst them.

 

“All Father!” He gasped, as the one-eyed God nodded benevolently at them. Jakob quickly looked at the others, who all wore similarly shocked expressions as he. They all quickly brought their fists across their chests and bowed their heads reverentially, but Odin clapped his hands together and spoke.

 

“Please, you have welcomed me to your fire, we have supped together… are we not now brothers?”

 

The men looked uncertainly at each other, but slowly they realised they had followed the widely accepted rules of hospitality and smiles broke out on their faces. Odin seemed pleased by this and he looked around at them all. They seemed like decent men; they were all built like hard working folk, the weapons they were carrying showed they were used to a bit of fighting in these unsettled times in this particular part of Midgard and some of their clothing indicated that they were of reasonably high birth. From the stories they had exchanged over breakfast, Odin had learned about some of their traditions back in the Scandinavian lands they had originated from and he knew they were exactly what he was looking for. He reached into his sack and pulled out a flagon of the finest spiced mead Asgard had to offer. Pouring some into a large kettle over the fire to warm, he asked “Something to warm us before breaking camp?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has Odin found what he needs on Midgard?  
> Stay tuned to find out!


	2. Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is the day of Loki's birth celebration and Odin and Frigga have managed to come up with a most entertaining programme of events. However, it seems Odin just cannot get it right...

Asgard began to awake with the early dawn and soon the warming rays of the Asgardian sun washed over the buildings and illuminated everything with a rich golden hue. Even at this early hour, the Palace complex was a hive of activity as the various servants and tradespeople went about the preparations for the birth celebration being held that day. Prince Loki was turning four and a great deal of thought had gone into the celebration; up to now he had usually had a child’s party in the Royal Nursery with his friends and family, but he was old enough now to share in the celebration with the population of Asgard – and each and every one of them was invited, whether to the celebration in the Palace itself, or the street party being held out in the city for everyone else – which Loki would ride through at noon to greet them.

 

After being gently woken at around eight o’clock that morning, Loki was taken to bathe in a huge bubbly bath in the private Royal Spa. It was his first treat of the day and his four year old mind could hardly cope with the level of excitement and fun being in such a large body of warm water could create. Tyr and Thor and a few of their friends were there too, and the amount of bubbles landing all around the bath – which was sunk into the floor – was probably greater than what were left in it. All the children were laughing and squealing as they splashed the water and threw floating toys at each other, and Frigga and Fulla had given up trying to admonish them several minutes ago; their gowns had become sopping wet and eventually Frigga had burst out laughing and told the children to simply enjoy themselves. To see them so happy and carefree was infectious and the two women were now sitting in fluffy robes at the side of the room enjoying a sneaky glass of Midgardian wine.

 

About an hour later, everyone gathered in the Great Hall for the birth celebration breakfast and the whole room was alive with the chatter of the Royal Family and their guests. Loki was looking resplendent in his Princely robes, which he had chosen himself. Being a very grown up boy and inspiring to become a wonderful young man just like Thor, the little boy had chosen a luxurious blue cloth for his plus-fours, a warm cream for his shirt and rich brown leather for his belt and boots. His brown hair – which had golden tones – had warrior braids at his temples to keep it back from his face and out of his eyes and today he even had the finishing touch to match the rest of his family. Both Odin and Frigga were wearing elaborately wrought golden headpieces which resembled the “crowns” worn by royalty on Midgard, and their sons were all wearing golden circlets – each with a stone set in the front to indicate whose it was. Tyr’s circlet had a cabochon cut Amethyst, symbolising wisdom, purity and clarity of thinking and Thor’s displayed a breath-taking Hemimorphite, a rare blue gemstone which was known to contain the power of the storm. Loki had chosen his own gemstone too, and it had been rather a surprise to everyone that he had not gone for something similar to one of his elder siblings, especially since he seemed to draw inspiration from them – mainly Thor – in a lot of the other areas of his life. The gemstone nestling in Loki’s circlet was a rich dark green Jade, a stone which was a bridge between dreams and the physical, a catalyst for healing, and a builder of confidence. It was also known as the stone of divine unconditional love. For Frigga, who knew that Loki had read up on the basics of gems before he chose his, the fact he had asked for Jade had been rather poignant in a lot of ways and she had found it difficult to not weep with happiness when she had first seen him try his circlet on.

 

They all looked very happy at the celebration and it was not long before the entertainment began. Both Odin and Frigga had been busy over the last few days and had contributed to the displays. Frigga had engaged dancing and circus troupes from Asgard and Alfheimr, and Loki and his companions were absolutely thrilled at the acrobatics, flame-throwing, balancing acts and stunts put on by the circus performers. Loki and the ladies – and a few of the boys and men too – were entranced by the grace of the ballet dancers, amazed by the skill of the tap dancers and gobsmacked by the crazy themes of the Dream dancers, and the rounds of applause that went up as each act completed their display went on for quite some time. Food was served, drink flowed and the lively chatter each of the visual delights generated filled the Great Hall with noise.

 

Then a War Horn sounded, and everyone fell silent.

 

Odin, who had been gracious enough to smile and applaud each of the entertainments so far – he had actually enjoyed the ballet despite his rather callous remarks on that matter – suddenly sat up a bit straighter, and encouraged Loki to leave his throne and to sit on his lap. As large torches were carried into the Great Hall and planted in holders in a big square around the part of the floor where the entertainers had been performing, Loki’s eyes were wide with expectation. Even Thor had put down the chicken drumstick he had been chewing on and was watching intently to see what would happen. The tall doors at the side of the Hall opened and a line of warriors walked in as quietly as a mouse – not even their heavy boots made a noise on the marble floor, so careful was their step. As Loki sucked in a baited breath, Odin whispered in his ear:

 

“The finest warriors on Midgard, my son. These are Norsemen and they are a part of the Vikings on Midgard! The great invasions and conquering of weaker, more primitive peoples to show them how to live and who to look to for guidance. These are the mortals who worship us, my son. These are our people! And now they are going to demonstrate something you have never seen before… behold!”

 

Odin smiled as Loki’s grip on his arm tightened with anticipation and he sat back to watch what Jakob and his men had in store for them. Just a few days ago on Midgard, the revelation that they were in the company of Odin had been a huge shock to them, but the All Father had quickly reassured them that it was his habit to enjoy the company of men and, after a hearty breakfast and much friendly conversation, he had asked them if they would do him a small favour. Yet, to Jakob and the other men, to be invited to the golden halls of Asgard to entertain his son was the greatest honour any mortal could be given. Throw in the fact that Odin had intimated that he had an artefact in his vaults which was possibly a long-lost possession of one of their ancestors and they had been won over. There was no hesitation: the settlement did not know they had landed yet and a diversion of a day or two would not make any difference. And what a diversion! The warrior men had not stopped being amazed at everything they had seen since arriving in Asgard, but during all of the experiences they had been having, they had still managed a little time to practise one of their favourite war chants. It was something they had often used when part of a much larger force back on Midgard if they were up against an army – it was aggressive, intimidating and very often made their opponents soil themselves before losing to them very badly on the battlefield. Here in Asgard it would not quite have the same effect, since there were only a dozen of them – the other seven being Einherjar who had been shown the chant and who had picked it up very quickly, but they still hoped to make a bit of an impression.

 

The twelve warriors – all wearing very intimidating armour and carrying formidable-looking weapons – lined up in three rows facing the celebrants. The back row was of seven men, the middle of four and Jakob was alone at the front. They came to a halt and slammed the butts of their long-spears on the floor with a loud thump, making Loki jump in Odin’s lap. The All Father rubbed Loki’s arm comfortingly and nodded at Jakob, who was awaiting his signal. He lowered the visor of his helm, which revealed a design of a ferocious wolf, and the others followed suit, also revealing various fierce animals. They slowly angled the tips of the spears towards their audience, before moving them in a circle and bringing them vertical again with another thump on the floor.

 

“ _ **Bræðr munu berjask**_!” Jakob’s deep voice rang out in the Great Hall and, if it were possible, everyone grew even quieter.

“ **Bræðr munu berjask**!” repeated the eleven warriors standing behind him and they slammed down their spears again.

“ **Ok at bönum verðask**!” they all shouted and took one step towards the audience, lifting and banging down their spears again. Odin placed his arm around Loki as the little Prince shrank back slightly at this aggressive display, “Watch, my son. These are the elite of the mortal realm.”

“ **Munu systrungar** …” Shouted Jakob and the warriors all took the opposing step forward, banging down their spears, “ **Sifjum spilla**!” all twelve completed and they threw down their spears, which clattered on the floor. A hushed gasp went up from a lot of the audience and a couple of the younger children began to cling to their older companions. Jakob wrenched up his visor, quickly followed by the rest of the warriors and he grimaced nastily, leering around at everyone before straightening up and unsheathing a wicked-looking dirk, which he brandished menacingly.

“ **Hart er í heimi** ,” he growled, baring his teeth, “ **Hórdómr mikill**!”

Behind him, the other warriors took hold of weapons from their belts – axes, maces and morning-stars amongst them – and they held them up. With each word enunciated in hostile voices, they banged the weapons on shields or brandished them, all the while stamping their booted feet in unison, punctuating each word frighteningly:

“ **Skeggöld**!”

“ **Skalmöld**!”

“ **Skildir… ro… klofnir**!”

“ **Vindöld**!”

“ **Vargöld**!”

“ **Áðr veröld steypisk**!”

 

And with their last line, the warriors suddenly marched right up to within three feet of the audience seated at the tables and yelled out their last line, causing squeals of terror amongst the youngest children and the eyes of the eldest to boggle in amazement:

 

“ **Mun engi maðr öðrum þyrma**!  HAHHHHH!!!!”

 

There was a moment’s pause, but then a small pair of hands were shakingly brought together and Loki began to clap as he sat up straight in his father’s lap. Odin quickly joined in and then the applause grew as more and more onlookers managed to overcome the almost paralysing fear the war chant had engendered in them. The warriors removed their helms and picked up their spears before retreating to a “safe” distance and bowing their heads to accept the applause. Odin signalled Jakob once more and the warriors departed, leaving behind an audience of people feeling mixed emotions: young children were still a bit upset, but starting to come round, older children were somewhat shocked, but equally impressed, a few women were wondering just who those rather impressive warriors had been and some of the men were wondering just why they did not employ such measures before engaging in battle themselves. Odin in particular was enjoying the excited chatter of his sons as they went over some of the scarier parts of the display, but his elation was short-lived.

 

He happened to glance to one side only to see Frigga sitting in a corner with a young child on her knee. She was gently wiping tears from a very upset little face and happened to look up just before Odin was about to look away. She cuddled the child closer to her and was clearly murmuring words of reassurance, calming down the sniffles and smoothing away the fear. Her face, however, was conveying to Odin only one thing and he knew he simply could not avoid it. Although he had explained some of what Jakob and the warriors would be showing them, he had not gone into great detail and had simply not considered that it may have been rather too frightening for the younger children. He acknowledged his beautiful Queen as she stared at him but he knew that look only too well: he was in deep trouble. He sighed and turned back to the animated conversation his sons were having. Thor and Tyr were going to be taking part in a commemorative battle in only an hour to continue Loki’s entertainment and they were asking him if Jakob could teach them a short war chant to carry out before it started. He would just have to hope that Frigga’s temper had cooled by then.

 

 

* * *

 

 

I took time to research Norse history to see if there were things such as New Zealand's The Haka, which I saw during the Rugby recently, but I could not really find such a tradition. Instead, I decided to look into the Eddas to see if there might be a stanza which was almost like a chant with a warning and I came across number 45, which is what I have used in my story. The translation by Bellows is below, along with notes on the stanza itself because, as we know, the ancient texts are incomplete and translations are hotly disagreed upon at times!

 

Translation:

45\. Brothers shall fight | and fell each other,  
And sisters' sons | shall kinship stain;  
Hard is it on earth, | with mighty whoredom;  
Axe-time, sword-time, | shields are sundered,  
Wind-time, wolf-time, | ere the world falls;  
Nor ever shall men | each other spare.

 

Notes:

45\. From this point on through stanza 57 the poem is quoted by Snorri, stanza 49 alone being omitted. There has been much discussion as to the status of stanza 45. Lines 4 and 5 look like an interpolation. After line 5 the Hauksbok has a line running: "The world resounds, the witch is flying." Editors have arranged these seven lines in various ways, with lacunae freely indicated. Sisters' sons: in all Germanic countries the relations between uncle and nephew were felt to be particularly close.]

 

Source: http://www.voluspa.org/voluspa41-45.htm

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so I'm so excited to share Loki's day with you that I just could not hold off from publishing this chapter! I hope it was enjoyable and enriched my Lokiverse's family dynamics for you. The gems in the circlets are real and not made up. The war chant is based on stanza 45 from the Völuspá - I hope you like how I am trying to weave Norse lore into Loki's tales and I hope I'm not treading on anyone's toes with any really bad inaccuracies I may have unwittingly made.  
> Palefire73  
> x


	3. Collaboration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The entertainment continues for the celebration of Loki's birth and he is treated to a fine re-enactment of a battle his grandfather fought in. However, after an accident occurs, Loki wants to get involved in "bashing the monsters" and the ensuing events will have a lasting effect on his life.

There were three combatants left “alive” on the battleground. Two against one, and that “one” was being played by Thor. Loki’s attention was riveted on the recreation of an ancient battle and every time a strike landed on his brother he flinched. The young God of Thunder raised his shield again and his opponent – a larger boy who was dressed up as a Stone Giant – brought his war hammer down upon it, causing it to crack in two and clatter to the ground. Loki gasped and shouted out “No!”, wrapped up in the action as he was. Frigga smiled and patted his arm reassuringly as they continued to watch the re-enactment, amused by how the little boy was behaving. As the action unfolded before them, the almost certain death of Thor’s character was thwarted and, somehow, he bested both of his opponents and stood alone on the battlefield – denoted by a large green sheet on the floor – raising his sword in victory. Loki leapt to his feet to cheer loudly at the outcome and Thor acknowledged him with a bright smile. The other actors all got up from their positions as dead combatants and bowed before leaving to get changed for another display to be put on after a short break.

 

“Oh Fadir! Móðir! They were so ferocious!” Exclaimed Loki as they waited for the next part of the entertainment, “Is that what it is truly like on the battlefield?”

 

“No!”

“Of course!”

 

Loki looked between his parents, confused at their opposing answers. “Which is it, then?” he asked, “Fadir, you have been in many wars – are they like that?!” he pointed a small finger to the rumpled green cloth, where the battle had just been acted out.

 

Odin, who had felt the sharp end of Frigga’s tongue only an hour ago regarding the rather scary nature of the Norsemen’s demonstration of an ancient war chant, looked at his Queen warily. He had not been impressed with the re-enactment he had just witnessed; Thor had been playing the role of his grandfather – Odin’s father – Bor and Odin knew full well that the fighting had been far more violent than what they had just been shown. Yet Frigga’s words were still ringing in his ears: “These are young children, Odin Borson, not seasoned warriors! Why did you not tell me just how scary they were going to be? That poor child was traumatised by that war chant and I can tell you now that I am none too happy with you!”

 

He looked down at Loki, who was sitting between them and clearly waiting for an answer. He repeated his answer, however. Although he understood Frigga’s concerns, Loki was still going to have to learn these things and there was no point in glossing over the truth. He could, however, diminish the severity of the news by choosing his words carefully.

 

“No, Loki. The battlefield is much worse than what you have just witnessed. The battlefield has sounds like no other, it smells like nothing you have ever experienced… it is a truly horrifying place. What you have just seen was a simple child’s tale about the real thing, watered down until it was almost unrecognisable!” Odin’s attempt at a tactful answer had failed, but Frigga’s expression was strangely one of approval. She added her own words to his: “Loki, what your father said is true enough and, as a future King, you must not be sheltered from it – “

“Indeed you must be told!” Interrupted Odin, “You must be prepared. That weak rendition did not do the real battle justice in my opinion! My father told me about it and he said that…”

“He will have told your father more detail, Loki.” Frigga broke in gently but firmly, reminding Odin that there was a time and a place for such revelations and that it was not now. He nodded at her, “I must excuse myself,” he said, “I wish to go to talk to the Weaponsmaster.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Hold still, hold still. There… it will be better in a few moments.”

 

Thor watched as his outstretched arm began to straighten and a warm feeling replaced the lancing pain. A small hand held his other one and its owner, Loki, watched as Frigga’s Seidr sank into the broken bone, straightening it, knitting it back together and strengthening the join. The Queen stroked her fingertips over Thor's skin and a wonderful tingling sensation followed them. She met Thor’s eyes and smiled, “Better?” He nodded gratefully as his shaking stopped and even managed a smile in return, “Better, thank you Móðir.” Frigga pulled his sleeve back down and held out a hand, “Let us get you up off this floor, then.”

“Móðir, that was wonderful!” Piped up Loki as he helped to pull Thor to his feet, “Your Seidr is very strong!”

 

Frigga smiled, “Thank you, Loki. Now, Thor – you go and get changed back into your proper clothes and Loki…”

“I want to fight a battle!” stated the little Prince, planting his feet and placing his hands on his hips. He lifted his chin and his blue eyes met hers, “I want to bash the bad monsters for Thor!”

Frigga was taken aback, but Odin stepped in before she could deny Loki.

“Why not?” He asked, “It is your birth celebration and I am quite sure you will bash all the monsters!” He quickly took Loki’s hand and led him out of the Great Hall to where all the entertainers had been getting ready during the course of the day.

 

Thor felt his mother’s hand tighten around his slightly as she watched Odin and Loki depart, but then she shooed him off to get changed too and she went back to her throne to watch a little display of gymnastics by a group of seven year olds. She was not pleased with Odin at all. Following the battle re-enactment, he had interfered in the structure of the next display to make it more realistic and Thor had ended up being left defenceless against a much larger opponent. In the heat of the moment, he had raised an unarmoured arm to deflect a blow and had ended up having it broken. His opponent had been mortified, of course; this was not a real battle. Upon realising the problem immediately, Frigga had rushed to Thor’s side followed by a curious Loki, and had commenced healing him. It was a bit of a stretch for her Seidr, but she managed it.

 

And now Odin was allowing Loki to have a go. She frowned as she considered it, hoping that the instructions would be to go easy on the little boy. The birth celebration guests grew quiet and she looked over at the doors to see the next group of entertainers coming in, led by Prince Loki, who was wearing badly fitting bits of mis-matched armour and a red cloak that was far too long for him. Frigga’s mood darkened as she watched the combatants take their positions. A narrator intoned an introduction about what famous point in history they were acting out and then they began.

 

At first, Frigga was happy to see that everyone involved was going easy on Loki, although if he engaged them, they would fight back to a certain extent to keep it looking realistic. From what she could remember of the story, Loki’s character – a famous Roman General from Midgard – would be victorious in this battle and hopefully the end was not far off. But her heart sank as she watched – almost in slow motion – that dratted red cloak wind itself around his leather boots and trip him up. The little Prince toppled to the floor with no opportunity to put his hands out to save himself and even from twenty feet away Frigga heard the sickening thud as he hit the hard marble. She shot from her throne and rushed over to her son in an unconscious re-enactment of the earlier incident involving Thor and crouched over Loki as he groaned and rolled onto his back to look up at her.

 

“Loki! Oh, Loki, are you well? Does it hurt anywhere?” She stroked his brown hair from his face as her serious eyes swept over him, trying to detect any problems.

“Móðir…” Loki’s voice was raspy, “Móðir, my hand hurts!”

As she looked, she could see that Loki’s hand was still through the knuckle guard of his sword and that there was something wrong with his little finger. It was sticking out from his hand at a funny angle. _Dislocation,_ she thought, and carefully drew his hand from the hilt. She shooed away everyone else, except Thor and Tyr, who came to give Loki some support, and Odin, who stood to one side to watch. Loki stared curiously at his dislocated finger, which was becoming both hot and numb at the same time, and then at his mother, who was gently holding his injured hand up to look at it more closely.

“Well, it is easier to mend than your brother’s injury!” She said brightly, and smiled at Loki, who managed a small grin on his wan face. He brought his other hand round to point at it as she took hold of it and whispered directly into her mind.

_"May I help?"_

Frigga paused slightly in surprise, but she nodded slightly and sent her telepathic reply straight back to him.

_"Of course! Find your pain with your mind, sense it and take hold of it."_

To everyone else there, Loki’s frown was caused by his discomfort, but to Frigga, it was his concentration and she allowed him a few seconds to try to latch on to the source of his pain. When a small look of achievement crossed his face, she knew he had it and that they were ready to relocate his finger into the knuckle joint. She curled her fingers carefully around the finger and took hold of his hand firmly.

_"Are you ready, my son? Melt that pain away while I push your finger back in."_

_"Will it work?"_  he sounded scared now.

_"Of course! And once it is back in, the pain will fade naturally anyway. Are you ready?"_

 

“Are you ready, Loki?” Frigga asked out loud and he nodded slightly, the apprehension clear to see in his face. She looked back at the injury and saw the tendrils of blue Seidr starting to emanate from Loki’s fingertips as he sought out and controlled the pain in the offending finger. Her own golden Seidr was already there, warming and numbing the knuckle in readiness for the relocation and, as she pushed the finger back into place, something amazing happened at the place where they were both magically helping the pain.

 

Their Seidr melded together. Starting as thin tendrils of golden and blue entwining and curling around each other, the colours slowly mixed and merged, becoming a deep and iridescent green, like the purest of emeralds. No one else could see this and were a bit perplexed as to the expressions of wonder on Frigga and Loki’s faces as they examined the mended finger, but they put it down to them both being relieved that it had gone back in first time.

 

And although neither of them could know it, the subconscious effect on Loki of witnessing the comfort of this new green Seidr created by working with his mother would be the true reason why he would eventually take the colour on for his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for reading along, first and foremost, and I hope you are all well.
> 
> The ending to this story is another reference to the many discussions I have had with readers on here and on DevA about Loki's Seidr and what colour it is. I have always "seen" Frigga's as golden, possibly because of the golden hues in the films and possibly because I just associate this colour with her as the Goddess of Fertility and foreseeing. Loki's Seidr in my stories started out as blue as a child simply because he is a Jotúnn and I wanted it to remind us all of what he is physiologically underneath the Asgardian surface. I did toy with it being multi-coloured to remind us that he is actually a Chaos Spirit originally, but I settled on blue as I thought it was more relevant for now.
> 
> I can't remember where I first discussed it, but there was a conversation I had about the idea of Loki's Seidr becoming green as he was tutored more and more by Frigga and this is now the weaving of those ideas into the stories. 
> 
> So - do you have a theory about Loki? Or are you not particularly into writing or is it not a subject you would broach in your own work? Try discussing it with a fanfictioneer and it may just possibly see the light of day!


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